


On Your Way

by BRobeast



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, ruthari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BRobeast/pseuds/BRobeast
Summary: Raising Rayla was never going to be an easy task...IE; A collection of bits of domesticated fluff and adventures
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	On Your Way

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping my toes in writing for The Dragon Price! This is just my way of getting the jitters out. I have little bits of Runaan, Ethari, and raising Rayla moments rattling around in my brain and this is how I'm gonna tackle it!

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” 

The clatter of Ethari’s tools on the tabletop echoed through the space as Runaan slammed his hands down, the hollow howl of his chair quick on its heels as he pushed up to his feet. They’d been sat at the far end of the table, leaders in the respective fields and so asked to attend the village meeting regarding the latest news on the state of the Dragon King and Queen, along with the devastating loss of their only heir. 

However, that wasn’t the issue at hand. The issue at hand was how they would collectively handle the news of Tiadrin and Lain, two of their own, abandoning a post of the highest honor. The elder council had immediately come to the choice that wherever the pair of them had gone, they would never be able to return to silvergrove. The declaration that the pair likely ran in cowardice with the rest of the elven guards had brought Runaan to his feet. Ethari had concluded that this meeting was more to strong arm the pair of them into compliance with the decision rather than allow them to be a part of it. Nearly halfway through he refused to give it his full attention. Instead he’d been fiddling away with the setting for a necklace he’d been working on- until he set his plyers down with enough force that Runaan’s attention snapped to him for the briefest of moments in surprise. 

The hall had been dimly lit by candle light and the iridescent glow of the tiny cap mushrooms that had sprouted up through the cracks of the hollowed out tree where the deliberation took place. It casted blue shadows across stern faces, through the crease in Runaan’s brow as he stared down the opposite end of the table, along the frown lines beside Ethari’s lips as sharp golden color poured into the irritated stares fixed on him and the man half stood at his side. 

“Ridiculous is hardly the word,” the woman opposite them hissed, a warning to watch the careless tone the pair of them had set. The hair that hung around the frame of her face like a colorless veil wavered in pale blue light and she turned her head to regard Runaan with a distant disinterest. 

“Tiadrin and Lain both held the Dragonguard position with a great amount of pride. They wouldn’t have simply walked away and you are well aware of that!” Runaan’s fingertips flexed against the worn wood of an ancient table as he bit the words out. 

“They wouldn’t leave their own child in our care to take up that position if they didn’t,” Ethari clarified, letting his hand to rest gently over the bone blanched knuckles of his husband, “and having their own child at home...they would have understood better than any of us the pain losing a child would have brought- let alone that child being the dragon prince.” 

“So, what you’re saying is they have a long history of running from responsibility then.”

Two pairs of eyes snapped to a man at the far left. He’d been in simple fabrics, albeit adorned with more intricate silver clasps, and finicky embroidered details. Pale hair sat braided back from his face tight enough that it pulled the lines of age taut at the corners of his eyes. 

Runaan could see forge fire in Ethari’s eyes as the hand over his own gripped hard enough to press his knuckles together in a painful way before he’d come to himself and let that anger out of his hands. 

“That’s a cruel conclusion, Geildran” came the assassin's stern reply. His gaze unwavering as Ethari shifted to stand beside him. 

“If the pair of you are done…we’d like to conclude this meeting with a final decision,” he huffed in reply, unbothered by the accusation as he moved to stand as well, “with the evidence of the rest of the Dragon Guard having left their post, the absence of any remains after the humans attacked, and the subsequent death of the Dragon Prince it is our conclusion that both Tiadrin and Lain are traitors to not only SIlvergrove, but all of Xadia through their actions...” 

Geildran shifted his attention from the scatter of familiar faces gathered around the table to land firmly, and unmoving, on a pair of furious expressions. 

“...or lack thereof. All in favor?” 

There was a pregnant pause in the room around them. Honey shifted in a silent plead to whoever would catch his eye, one last attempt at some reason among his fellow moonshadow elves. Runaan’s gaze fell to the tabletop, too conditioned into pride and tradition to continue the argument against an elder of the table once the deliberation was clearly brought to an end. 

Ethari’s shoulders dropped as the first hand tentatively lifted into the air. Then a second...a third...a fourth...until the only elves that hadn’t lifted a hand in favor were himself and Runaan. Their hands too twisted in each other in a silent, furious, sort of grief to do much else. 

“It’s decided.” 

-*-*-

“What are we going to do, Runaan?” Ethari had picked up a quick walk to meet pace with Runaan, tilting his head enough to try and catch familiar eyes, but he denied in favor of a forward glare. 

“What we must,” Runaan’s face softened, prepared to meet his husband’s gaze without the anger directed at the situation they found themselves in,” for Rayla’s sake.” 

The sandy path ahead of them wound along the cliff side, hugging tight to the curves of a steep pass, until it disappeared around a dramatic corner. It was just another evening for most. He supposed the world didn’t stop spinning for a pair of exiled moonshadow elves. The heavy drop of whisper willow leaves brushed in the cool breeze, hissing out secrets as the bows brushed each other. The smell of wood burning in preparation for dinners pushing a sharp edge into the evening air. 

He could hear the clatter of pots through open windows as they wove a quiet trail through the residential area that sat on the outskirts, just outside the mottle of trades and businesses as they neared the center of Silvergrove. Easy blues and vibrant greens swirled into a palette of color only interrupted by the bright pop of a butterfly on its own miniscule adventure. Ethari’s eyes were still on him, even as Runaan turned his attention forward again, waiting for the familiar tree top that signaled home.

“This doesn’t sit well with me…” Ethari’s voice pulled him out of the silent search he’d admittedly wrapped himself up with in an attempt to avoid the thunder of disgruntled thoughts.

“...me neither, but a table decision is final…”

“We could appeal it,” Ethari offered and Runaan turned his head to stare at his husband with wide-eyed confusion. 

“That’s...that’s not how this works…”

“And why not?”

Ethari was an innovator. His mind suffocated in the horrendously traditional atmosphere of their world. He was forever thinking five steps ahead, more a part of the future than the present moment. Runaan sat rather opposite- routine and steady predictability forever a quiet comfort to him. Lain had seen fit to constantly push his friend past his comfort zone whenever he spotted the opportunity and Runaan had cursed him for it over many years. 

Even Runaan couldn’t deny the growth it had begrudgingly brought through him. If Lain hadn’t pushed...Runaan wouldn’t have taken the leap of faith that built a bridge between him and Ethari. They had always been two different people, but in a way it balanced. It brought a sort of harmony to the stringent routine of an assassin that forgot to take moments to breathe and the scatter of an inventor's mind that Ethari found himself both blessed and cursed to possess.

“It’s just...how it’s always been…” Runaan sighed, his steps slowing as the long stretch of stone steps that led to their home came into view around another serpentined edge. 

“You know I hate that answer…” Ethari mumbled, shifting to rest his temple against the curve of his husband’s shoulder, “it’s the death of all thought.”

Green fell to the stone basin ahead of them, following the ripples in the surface as yellowed leaves collided with the surface of it on a particularly strong pull of wind. The hardest part should have been arguing with half of his own village on behalf of his friends. It would have been the hardest part if fate wasn’t often cruel. Whatever quiet comfort they’d found between each other on the walk home stirred beneath the surface as Runaan came to the realization that the hardest part wouldn’t even be explaining this to Rayla.

It would be living in this collective lie.

This lie that somehow a man that may as well have been his brother and a woman who was the bravest moonshadow elf Runaan had ever known….were traitors...would willingly leave their own daughter like this.

They wouldn’t. They would never. Both Ethari and Runaan knew that to be true. 

As they climbed those stairs Runaan tried to find some peace in the idea that lying to Rayla was what needed to be done…

And he never found it.


End file.
